


time and music

by snubfin



Category: Hamilton - Miranda (Broadway Cast) RPF
Genre: Light Bondage, M/M, Orgasm Denial, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-09 01:51:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10401063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snubfin/pseuds/snubfin
Summary: “Manners don’t sell musicals. Fuck manners and fuck me, too.”“I’ll think about it.”





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kisatsel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kisatsel/gifts).



It was a shitshow of a meeting.

Tommy's getting used to this. Producers want a return on their investments and they don't think Lin's work will sell. Chop it, change it, write a different show and they'll admit his obvious talent, but they won't put money on the table for In the Heights. This one didn't even do them the courtesy of suggesting tweaks - came straight in with "I think we need to focus more on Nina" and by the time he was done the whole show would have been about Nina the poor immigrant trying to fit in at college, classic ugly duckling plot, and Tommy hadn't even needed to prompt Lin to say no.

Lin afterwards, riding the subway back to Tommy's tiny basement studio, was a coil of fury. He dragged stormclouds with him and the crowds made space. Tommy kept himself tucked in close. He's never been afraid of Lin's thunder. And Tommy is furious too, though he carries his anger as a straightened spine and a raised head. He spent that meeting asserting, with every word he spoke, _Heights is not yours. Heights is ours._ And now, afterwards, now that he's won that fight and Heights is still theirs, he can be furious at the disrespect for everything Lin is trying to make.

Can be. Could. But honestly, he got used to that anger years ago, turned it into fuel for his self-imposed life's work: make Lin's path straight.

Lin believes two things. First, that he must do everything as well as possible as quickly as possible. And second, that the right words can unlock any door. Right now, in this half-empty subway car at three o'clock on a Tuesday, Lin is running through every word in Heights and every second of that meeting, trying to find the flaw, the moment where he should have said something different and that would have tipped the balance of the universe and he would have his way. The place where, if Lin commanded, there would have been light. It doesn't matter that there wasn't one. Lin will tear the universe down until he finds it.

Tommy's apartment is chilly in the winter. He can't really afford heating, not until they talk some investors into taking a gamble on them. But it's home, and he can let his posture slip by half a whisker and kick off his shoes. He has eight inches of window at the very top of the wall, filtering dim light in from the street. It's enough to see by but he switches the lamp on anyway, resolute. They're not going to hide in a dark basement because a rich man didn't like their show. That's not what's happening. They had a professional meeting, it didn't go their way. The world isn't ending. This isn't the end of the road.

Lin collapses in the armchair. His face is turned up toward the ceiling, his limbs loose, but he's clenching his jaw. Tommy takes a moment to hang up his jacket and loosen his tie, a moment more to study Lin's face, the dark shadows under his eyes, the frown of concentration, still trying to set the world to rights.

“You're in my chair,” Tommy says.

“Mine now.”

“Nope.” Tommy takes both Lin's hands and heaves him upright. Lin doesn't open his eyes until Tommy turns him, letting momentum spin them both around, and drops himself into the armchair. Lin keeps hold of his hands, so Tommy pulls again and ends up with Lin straddling his lap.

“Hi,” he says quietly.

“Hi,” Lin repeats, and leans down to kiss him. His lips are cool from the air outside. Tommy lets him take the lead at first, trying to feel him out. They haven't been doing this so much lately. Lin doesn't say, but Tommy sees how he gets wistful around kids, knows he wants an anchor outside of his work. Tommy can't be that for him, Tommy drowned himself in Lin's words long ago, and so Lin is still looking for his right person. That's okay. Tommy will always be his director, and when Lin crawls into his lap Tommy will always kiss him back.

Lin ramps up fast. He grips Tommy's shirt like he's trying to climb him, his mouth warming up with the contact. Tommy slings one arm around his waist to pin him close and gives it moment, see if Lin's going to pull back before he escalates. Lin doesn't. He puts the other hand on the back of Lin's neck and squeezes.

“Oh,” Lin says, rough and throaty. Tommy bites his bottom lip and is rewarded with the feel of his hips tilting forward. Lin's so easy sometimes. Sex, grief, joy – he always jumps in the deep end. So it doesn't take long, with Tommy letting him set the pace, for Lin to be fumbling at Tommy's fly. No long enough for Tommy's dick to have taken an interest yet.

“Hands off,” Tommy murmurs, and for a minute Lin does, more or less, his fingers digging into Tommy's shoulders. Tommy does the same back, a little more targeted, trying to rub some of the tension out of Lin's shoulders and maybe calm him down, but even so Lin's soon working at his tie. “Patience.”

“Fuck patience. I don’t do patience. I ran out and didn’t buy any more yet.”

“Manners, Miranda.”

“Manners -” Lin jerks Tommy’s tie free of his shirt. “Manners don’t sell musicals. Fuck manners and fuck me, too.”

“I’ll think about it.” Tommy gets a grin for that, though Lin clearly meant it as self-recrimination. He tugs his tie out of Lin’s hand before he can drop it. Grabs Lin’s wrist for good measure. Lin’s grin widens.

“You going to teach me a lesson?”

“Of course not. You don’t need a lesson. You already know how to control yourself. You just choose not to.”

Lin puts his wrists together. “So you’re going to do it for me?”

“Exactly.”

Letting Lin have his hands in front of him is too easy. Tommy guides the wrist he’s holding behind Lin’s back instead and watches him theatrically straighten up, throwing his chest out to bring his arms closer together. Tommy loops the tie around them and holds the ends. Lin, just as theatrically, pretends to struggle, but he stops when Tommy starts unbottoning his shirt.

“What,” he complains, “what, I have to be naked and you don’t? I wanna complain to the referee, this is foul play, you’re cheating. Who said you could cheat? You’re supposed to be nice to me.”

“I never agreed to that.” Tommy pushes Lin’s shirt one-handed off his shoulders and watches him wriggle to work it down his arms. He lets the tie slip loose long enough to get the shirt off Lin’s wrists, catch his hands again, wrestle them back behind him, and then he can knot the thing properly and scratch Lin’s chest a little, enough to be a warning. He leans into it.

“That’s nice,” he says against Tommy’s lips. “You can keep doing that. I give you permission.”

“Thank you, you’re very generous.” They kiss for a while, slow slide of their tongues together and Lin’s breath hot on his mouth, but Lin is squirming in his arms.

“Come on.”

Tommy keeps kissing him.

“Come _on_ , Kail, get on with it.”

He laughs a little, to watch Lin getting frustrated, and drops his head to mouth at Lin’s neck. Lin’s revenge is, in hindsight, predictable: he bites Tommy’s suddenly-near shoulder hard enough to bruise.

Tommy pushes him back far enough that Lin’s stomach muscles are straining to keep him balanced. He lets the silence stretch out. Lin will break first. Lin always breaks first. Tommy can wait.

“Fucking _touch_ me, asshole!”

“Yeah, no.” He pushes Lin sideways instead, gripping the back of his neck to guide him. Lin grumbles and kicks until he’s laid out across Tommy’s lap, his legs dangling off the arm of the chair. Tommy scratches the base of his spine. “Lift up. You still have pants on.”

Lin struggles for a moment, trying to arch himself up, before he decides on the easy route and squirms backwards to put his feet on the floor. Tommy doesn’t comment on his wriggling, or on how hard he is, just undoes his fly and pushes his pants down to the floor. Lin looks even skinnier in his skin. He skips meals like he thinks he’ll score points for it. Tommy lives in hope of him discovering vegetables.

Lin flops back across Tommy’s lap with a put-upon sigh. He wiggles his ass coquettishly, and when that doesn’t get a response he starts clenching his muscles to make it bounce. Tommy cracks up. Lin is ridiculously attractive. It is ridiculous that Tommy is attracted to him.. He’s still laughing when he lands the first spank.

Lin jolts under the impact. “Oh.”

“You sound surprised.”

“It’s been a while.” Half the cocky arrogance has already slipped out of him. Tommy grins fiercely to himself. _Now_ his dick’s getting interested.

He doesn’t really give Lin time to warm up. Lin won’t relax into it, given time and gentleness - he’ll just keep arguing. So Tommy goes heavy-handed from the start, feeling Lin’s body rocking forward under each impact. Lin gets enough time to breathe between blows, but no more than that.

His eyes are wet when Tommy pauses to rub his reddened ass. Pauses, too, to unzip his fly and take the pressure off his stiff cock. Lin hides his face in the padded arm of the chair and squirms, rubbing his belly and side against Tommy. Still trying to control things. Tommy sighs.

“What are you getting out of that, Lin?”

“I’m turning you on,” Lin says, muffled against the cushion.

“Yeah, no.” Tommy smacks his thigh, fast and noisy but not too hard. “I’m doing that. It’s not you, Lin-Manuel. It’s not anything you’re doing. It’s just what I’m doing to you. I’m turning _myself_ on.”

Lin keeps moving. “It’s me. You know how I know? Because after this you’re going to fuck me.”

“No, I’m not.”

“I can talk you into anything. I wanna get fucked. That means you have to fuck me.”

“Hmm,” Tommy says. “No, I don’t. Count.”

He smacks Lin’s ass again, harder this time. Lin hisses angrily. “One.” He hates counting. “Two. Three, ow, fuck. Four. Five. I hate you. Six. This doesn’t - seven - even count - eight - you ow fuck _nine_ you didn’t start from zero ten. Eleven.”

His voice cracks on eleven. Tommy can hear him realising they’re not counting to ten, the way a little bravado peels away. “Twelve. Thirteen, fuck, what is it with you and even numbers, fourteen.”

“Even numbers mean I can hit you the same on each side,” Tommy says calmly. He puts fifteen and sixteen on Lin’s thighs to make his hands tense uselessly against the tie behind him.

“Seventeen,” Lin gasps, the crack widening, “oh shit, _eighteen_ , you’re not going to stop, nineteen, shit shit shit _twenty_. Twenty- _one_.”

Tommy lets him dangle there for a minute. Lin’s hands are clenching over and over. He knows there’s at least one more coming. But he’s got his face turned towards Tommy, his eyes tightly closed, breathing hard, silent. Tommy gives him _twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four_ without hearing a word of protest, and decides that’s enough. Lin could take more, but he’ll start sobbing soon if Tommy makes him.

He rubs lightly between Lin’s shoulder-blades instead. Lin shudders, his belly shifting against Tommy’s cock and Tommy’s suddenly light-headed with arousal.

“Sit up,” he says hoarsely, “back on my lap, come on.”

Lin sniffles once and starts wriggling, still hindered by how his hands are tied, to first get off Tommy’s lap and then climb back onto him, face to face, his naked thighs wide to straddle Tommy’s legs. Tommy wraps one hand around him to feel the heat of his ass and moves his head with the other. This is Tommy’s favourite way to kiss, when Lin’s let him make him pliable. When he gives up on rewriting the world. When he lets go. Tommy could enjoy this for hours, the soft heat of Lin’s mouth and the tiny feverish circles his hips make, only Tommy’s going to start grinding back if he doesn’t get some action soon.

He eases his dick out of his boxers and makes an embarrassing noise of relief. Lin whimpers back against his lips, but he doesn’t beg. God, Tommy loves him. He strokes himself unhurriedly, letting the back of his fingers brush against Lin’s cock. Lin’s shoulders heave against the tie for a moment before he goes loose again.

“Please,” he says, and he sounds like he means it as a request, “please will you,” and Tommy grins at him. Lin whines helplessly. He doesn’t ask again, while Tommy speeds up and his breathing gets heavy, even when Tommy brushes against him again and feels him starting to drip. Tommy rewards him with slow pinches to his nipples.

“Later,” he says, when he’s getting close and Lin still hasn’t started begging, “maybe. Maybe you can come tonight. But absolutely not if you ask.”

When Tommy comes back to earth he finds Lin’s face buried in his shoulder, his breath hot through Tommy’s shirt. He kisses Lin’s ear, the side of his head. Lin doesn’t lift his head up, but he turns a little to kiss Tommy’s neck. He’s almost boneless still, melting into Tommy’s arms. It won’t last, but it’s good enough. Good enough for today.


End file.
